


Opened Up My Eyes, The Remix

by redbrickrose



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrickrose/pseuds/redbrickrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I marked this Aubrey/Chloe, but it's really more gen-with-subtexty-undertones.  I'm sorry I couldn't make them kiss; I don't know what's wrong with me.</p><p>Happy Yuletide!  I was excited to get a Pitch Perfect prompt and I have many, many feelings about Chloe, so it was fun to try to get into her head for a bit.  Hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opened Up My Eyes, The Remix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brandnewsoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandnewsoul/gifts).



Chloe wakes up in the middle of the night to the curtains pulled wide and New York City lights streaming into the tiny hotel room. Aubrey’s standing in the glow, shadows cast across her face so that Chloe can see her in profile but can’t make out her expression. She's humming something that sounds like Meredith Brooks’ “Bitch” under her breath and Chloe's flooded with relief, surprised by the rush of it. That song was their running inside joke about Megan and the Bella legacy for so long, until Aubrey more or less turned into Megan over the past year. Chloe's a little raw still, and a little mad at herself for not seeing it coming, knowing how seriously Aubrey takes responsibility. And failure.

But that's lessened now. There’s been a softness to Aubrey over the last few weeks that Chloe’s grateful to see. She’s been typical Aubrey since they arrived in New York, insisting on last minute rehearsals and spending a good chunk of the evening warning everyone about the evils of alcohol and treblemakers, while glaring pointedly at Beca and Fat Amy. But even that was gentler than it has been, tempered with the calm that’s been palpable since she handed the pitch pipe over to Beca. Everybody can see it, but Chloe’s catching glimpses of the Aubrey she knew freshman year, before she got so obsessed with winning, before her older sister dropped out of school to get married and Aubrey took on the full weight of their father’s expectations.

Chloe takes a deep breath and comes in on “I’m a sinner, I’m a saint.” Aubrey starts and turns away from the window and the energy in the room ratchets up a few notches, but she’s smiling widely when she turns fully toward Chloe. You can feel Aubrey on alert, when her attention focuses in. Part of Chloe thinks this is why other people find Aubrey exhausting, but she also suspects other people can’t feel that quite like she can.

Aubrey breaks off at the chorus, and leans back against the window. “Remember how Megan never let us sing that?”

“Remember how Megan never let us do anything?” Chloe asks, and it’s not really supposed to come out pointed, but maybe it does a little anyway, and maybe Chloe’s just a little bit glad when Aubrey winces.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t...you had as much right to be Captain as I did.”

“It’s okay; you know that,” Chloe says, again, because they’ve been through this, and it _is_ okay. Chloe never wanted that anyway, and not getting it was never the part that stung. Aubrey nods, but her answering smile is still a little wary.

“Go to bed,” Chloe says, though it probably doesn’t matter all that much. The competition isn’t until the next evening anyway, and by then they’ll all be fueled almost completely by caffeine and adrenaline.

Aubrey shrugs. “I can’t sleep.” The sheets on the other bed are in disarray, the comforter spilling off the foot and tangled on the floor, one pillow pushed over the side. Aubrey’s not a sound sleeper at the best of times, and the night before their last major competition is not the best of times, regardless of how confident she’s feeling.

“Come here, then,” Chloe says, pushing herself up in bed and reaching out for Aubrey, grabbing her hand when she gets close enough and pulling her down on the bed. Aubrey perches next to her, still not quite fully relaxed, tension thrumming under Chloe’s fingertips where they rest against Aubrey’s wrist.

Even with her newfound calm, there’s a hum to Aubrey, a resonance to her presence. She’s a plucked string vibrating, and Chloe can feel her, in the air, in the silence that doesn’t quite manage to be silence when Aubrey’s in the room. And the way Aubrey’s looking at her now, backlit by New York City lights, makes something in Chloe ache. This is the last time, whatever happens tomorrow. And with Chloe's choice to get surgery to remove the nodes, she’s probably done performing completely. She always expected to be, really. She’s a Bella mostly because freshman year Aubrey looked at her and said “let’s do this.” Her energy wasn’t frantic then, it was only vibrant and resonating and very, very convincing. Aubrey, whatever else is true of her, is very difficult to say no to.

Chloe will graduate and do something with her journalism degree and sing for fun when she can. Maybe she’ll try to learn the guitar again. But Aubrey’s plans are always big, and Chloe hasn’t even asked what comes next, because she’s not sure she wants a concrete answer to how far apart they’re going to end up. They’ve been best friends since they walked into their shared dorm room four years ago, but they’ve been drifting - so much so that Chloe didn’t mention the vocal node surgery before it happened. So much so that they only vaguely allude to post-graduation plans. So much so that for the last six months, Chloe hates Aubrey about half the time, and the other half is so afraid of losing her she can’t breathe.

“Thank you for not drinking earlier,” Aubrey says. Her voice is hesitant. “Not that I’m telling you what to do. I worry, though. About your voice.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows and doesn’t say _I know, I was the one living with nodes_. Of course, Aubrey was telling her what to do, but she’s used to that. She even appreciates the concern. It’s how Aubrey shows love, and there’s something comforting in that, as long as Chloe doesn’t think too hard about where it comes from.

Of course, sometimes it's how she shows anxiety and desperation, but four years in Chloe can tell the difference.

Aubrey drops her eyes when she realizes Chloe is just staring at her and says, “I’m sorry if I was telling you what to do.”

“You were telling us all what to do, but it’s fine. We love you anyway. And you’re welcome. I wouldn’t have, anyway, not before a competition like this. You know that.” No one was drinking. Everyone was listening to Aubrey, but it was out of affection and amusement, not resentment anymore.

Aubrey laughs softly, “I’m sorry; I didn’t....”

“It’s okay,” Chloe says. “I know what this means to you. You know It means the same thing to all of us, right?”

Aubrey looks up, sharp and sudden. “No, it doesn’t.”

“It means the same thing to _me_ , then,” Chloe says. 

Aubrey considers that, but then shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t.”

Chloe bites back a harsher retort when she sees the look on Aubrey’s face. She squeezes Aubrey’s wrist, “tell me.”

“I lost us everything last year. You and me, this is our last chance, and it was up to me to make it right, to fix what I messed up. Like my dad always says...”

Chloe cuts her off with the fingers of her free hand pressed over Aubrey’s lips. Aubrey’s looking at her, surprised, her breath light against Chloe’s fingertips.

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I don’t care about anything your father has ever said, okay?” Chloe’s surprised by the vehemence in her own voice, but Aubrey’s just staring at her, wide-eyed, and she nods and bites her lip when Chloe takes her hand away. 

“Is he coming tomorrow?” Chloe asks, and Aubrey snorts a laugh.

“After last year? No. He wouldn’t waste the money on the trip again.”

“Listen to me,” Chloe says; she shakes Aubrey’s wrist where she’s still holding onto her, and Aubrey turns her hand slightly so their fingers are tangled together. “It’s his loss.”

Aubrey shrugs again. “It’s probably best.” It probably is; Aubrey will be better without her father in the audience. But that’s not any fairer than anything else he’s ever done to her, and it makes Chloe mad on her behalf.

“Hey,” Chloe says, “the most important part of everything you just said was the part about you and me, okay? Our chance. We’re gonna be great tomorrow. And I’m glad we got to be part of the Bellas like this.”

“We did the right thing, didn’t we?” There’s still something a little fragile in Aubrey’s voice.

“You know we did,” Chloe says, softly, “and you know this is better. It fits us. This is you and me too. It’s more 'us' than the old arrangements ever were.” It was the best thing for the Bellas, and giving up rigid control was the best thing for Aubrey. The old Bellas had never really been what she _wanted_ anyway, just the legacy passed down that she felt she had to preserve. It was the Way Things Were Done.

Chloe doesn’t think too hard about where that comes from either.

“Yeah,” Aubrey says, “I know..” Chloe can feel the moment she actually relaxes. The tension drops, and Aubrey shifts so that they’re stretched out together. Chloe sags back against the bedframe, sliding over to give Aubrey room and Aubrey leans in until her full weight is against Chloe’s shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” Chloe asks.

“I feel okay. I feel good actually. I feel like we’re be gonna good. Either way. Even if we don’t win, we’re gonna be really good,” Aubrey pauses, “or did you mean am I going to anxiety-vomit all over the stage? Because I don’t think so. My dad won’t be there, after all.”

That’s the first time Aubrey’s ever voluntarily brought that up (or second if you count The Incident at rehearsal the day Beca came back) and Chloe jerks her head up to stare at her. Aubrey blinks at her, face blank for a moment, before the corners of her mouth twitch up in a grin. then she’s laughing, and then they both are, pressed up against each other. Aubrey drops her head against Chloe’s shoulder.

“How do you feel? How’s your throat?” Aubrey asks, her voice muffled against Chloe’s t-shirt.

“Fine. I’ll be fine,” Chloe says, and means it. Her voice isn’t the same. She’s always going to have to be careful not to push too hard and she’s lost the top of her range, but it doesn’t hurt and she hasn’t lost tone or resonance. She’s so fucking lucky she didn’t mess her voice up worse than she did.

Aubrey raises her head to meet Chloe’s eyes, and they’re so close together. New York City lights are playing across Aubrey’s cheekbones, resonating in her eyes.

“We’ll be fine,” she says, her voice tight with conviction, but her fingers digging into Chloe’s hand. She's probably talking about the competition.

“We’re gonna be great,” Chloe says. “You and me. Either way.”


End file.
